


Stripped

by thecinemashow



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Minor Violence, On Hiatus, Pacifist Ending, Post-Canon, Rating May Change, Warnings May Change, problems with perfectionism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecinemashow/pseuds/thecinemashow
Summary: An unsuccessful mission leaves an RK900 with unfamiliar issues and a budding curiosity about a certain deviant RK800.Chapters influenced by the songs from the album Violator by Depeche Mode.





	1. World In My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I'm surfing back in with more RK900/RK800 content, yeehaw
> 
> also I really like Depeche Mode and was givin' Violator a listen when I was like "ah shit these songs fit Those Boys real well" so here we are!
> 
> I might be pushing the boundaries of android stuff here but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> this first chapter is based off the song [World In My Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAo82KUJr_A)

It seemed more like a warning shot than anything else. Even being an advanced prototype, Connor was well aware that as he stepped out of the elevator into the warehouse of the CyberLife tower, he was completely vulnerable to anyone—human or android—that may be lying in wait. So, Connor could only assume the bullet he barely evaded was the result of an intentional miss.

Before Connor could properly react, a blur of black and white rushed him, slamming the android to the ground. He twisted in place before rolling backwards and up to his feet, barely dodging the grabbing hand of his assailant. As he drew his gun and stared down the figure before him. A foreign prickling sensation ran through his body.

Connor fully anticipated seeing endless lines of the same android model, all alike in appearance as they faced ahead, not yet activated. However, he didn’t once expect to see an android that made him feel like he was staring into a mirror.

 _Surreal_ would be how humans described it.

Upon further observation, Connor could see that there were minor differences between him and this new android. Steely blue eyes, a taller stature, and sharper facial features made for an intimidating appearance. Connor allowed his eyes to briefly dip down and read the label on its jacket: RK900.

Whatever softness Connor possessed was not kept with this new model. Everything was carved to a point, sharp and ready to cut at the slightest contact. Perfectly deadly for its designated purpose.

Models were replaced, updated—that was simply a fact of android development. While it didn’t necessarily mean previous models would be completely deactivated, Connor could not see any positive outcome in the arrival of a more advanced RK model. There’s a difference between a maid and an assistant to law enforcement.

Now, staring ahead at RK900, Connor felt...dread. A feeling that clung at his body and dragged it toward the ground below. The more advanced model stared at him with empty eyes, seemingly unaffected by the idea of doing any harm to its predecessor.

Another gunshot echoed throughout the vast warehouse. Connor cursed as the bullet struck his gun, forcing him to drop the weapon. Time seemed to slow down as he was presented with two options: grab the gun or run. While grabbing the gun meant he would once again be able to effectively defend himself, it would be all too easy for the RK900 to shoot him. Running? Well…

Connor peeled away from the scene, slipping through the tight spaces in the formation of androids. Another gunshot followed and he hissed slightly as a bullet grazed his shoulder. Footsteps, aggressively fast, followed behind him, unperturbed by having to push through lines of inactive androids to reach its desired target.

Fear bubbled within Connor as he heard another gunshot, followed by a bullet hitting the ground just next to him. He threw himself to the ground, bracing for the sound of more gunfire. It never came. Instead, he heard the clicking of approaching shoes.

While it was a rather undignified form of locomotion, Connor decided shoving himself across the floor on his stomach was much preferred to being shot. Sliding between a few rows to put some more distance between himself and the RK900, it was only then that he resumed a slightly better position on his knees.

The clicking of the heels sounded distant, yet seemed to come from everywhere. Connor peered through the rows of white, trying to pick out black trousers amongst the identical white legs. Nothing. Glancing up toward one of the androids, he figured he’d be damned if he didn’t at least _try_ to achieve his goal.

Reaching up, synthetic skin melted away to reveal white as Connor grabbed the forearm of the android next to him. Another gunshot, and Connor immediately jerked away and pushed himself back. Had he not moved, the bullet would’ve met its mark.

It felt overwhelmingly like a game of cat and mouse, Connor noted as he pushed himself along the floor, hoping in vain that he would somehow disappear in the crowd of endless white. In dark grey clothing, he knew it to be futile.

Perhaps the key wasn’t to run.

Connor slowly eased himself passed another line of androids before freezing. Following a quick scan of the area, he could see how close he had grown to the pathway that divided the clusters of androids. And as he listened—nothing. Even with his acute android hearing, there was no sound he could detect.

Minutes crawled by, agonizingly slow. Silence choked the warehouse and moments flitted by where Connor almost wished he heard something— _anything_ —that would allow him to pinpoint the location of the RK900. Instead, there was nothing. His mind drifted back to Markus, to Jericho, to the revolution going on nearby. Slowly, he glanced up toward an android. He needed to accomplish this mission.

It happened in that same second. An imposingly tall figure struck into the crowd, snatching Connor by the shoulders and dragging him out onto the empty path. He was down on his knees, just barely able to keep his balance. Then, a gun pressed to his forehead. He looked up to his successor.

Fearful brown eyes met indifferent blue ones.

There was no time for hesitation, no time to consider the consequences. Connor reached up and grabbed the RK900’s wrist, shoving it away. The gun fired with the bullet striking the ground a great distance away from the two. Unfortunately, this only seemed to be a minor delay for the RK900 as it simply grabbed ahold of Connor’s hair and jerked him downward, forcing the elder android onto his back.

Connor immediately reached out and grabbed the RK900’s arm that currently held the gun, pushing it away from his body. In retaliation, the RK900 simply used its other hand to press down on Connor’s throat. His free hand automatically reacted by grabbing the RK900’s, trying to pry it away.

_Convert it._

But would that work? Connor gritted his teeth together as the skin on his hand peeled away. He wasn’t entirely sure what, if any, sort of sensation was involved with converting an android, but he had a feeling it certainly wasn’t this. It felt like pounding his hands into a wall that barely cracked with each strike.

The RK900 narrowed its eyes, leaning closer to Connor’s face as it applied more pressure to his throat. He didn’t have much time. But, if converting it wasn’t going to work, what would?

_No._

It was the only thing worth a chance.

Closing his eyes, Connor focused. A jolt went through him as it went through with relative ease. Interesting, how CyberLife planned ahead with a code hardwired to prevent deviancy, but didn’t consider defending against a forced memory transfer.

Almost immediately, the pressure around Connor’s throat loosened and the gun clattered to the ground next to him. His surroundings became distant as he suddenly found himself standing in the Zen Garden, gazing calmly across the scene. Beside him, Amanda stood tending to her roses, discussing a deviant RK800 model. He saw the empty walls of one of CyberLife’s buildings, provoking a sense of déjà vu. There was a whirlwind of walls, of a familiar elevator, and the inside of the warehouse from the angle of a predator lying in wait for its prey.

Connor had to blink a few times before he could entirely get a hold on his surroundings. Above him, the RK900’s LED was flickering an almost violent yellow as he processed what had been sent by Connor. Before the newer model could completely reorient itself, Connor shoved it aside and grabbed the gun. Hurriedly, he pushed himself onto his feet, looking down upon the RK900.

He should shoot it. Logically, Connor knew it would be most sensible to dispose of the android. It wouldn’t be difficult, especially when it was stuck in this brief disoriented state. Yet, something gnawing at him, deep in the recesses of his mind, whispered not to.

Grasping the slide of the gun, Connor slammed the grip against the RK900’s head. The android barely flinched, immediately looking up toward Connor. He repeated the action, putting more force into it. This time, he received more of his desired reaction as the RK900 suddenly froze. Slowly, it extended one of its arm into empty space while the other reached up at touch one of its ears.

Relief trickled through Connor’s body. He only needed to disable the RK900’s auditory and visual processors long enough to begin converting the androids.

With a final breath, Connor dealt one more blow to the RK900’s head. He watched for a moment as it attempted to push itself upward and onto unsteady feet. Connor took a few steps back and circled around. While it seemed to have a very vague idea of where he was, the RK900 generally appeared to have lost its target.

Connor tucked the gun away before setting off down the path. He paused by one android and reached out, synthetic skin disappearing as he grasped its forearm.

“Wake up!”


	2. Sweetest Perfection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go lads!!
> 
> here's the song, [Sweetest Perfection](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OJ5mnUABvcg)

The river flowed by at an almost sluggish pace. It moved along at its own speed, unworried by the outside world. It did as it pleased, bending nature and humanity to its will. The same chemical compound that rolled on by in the Zen Garden could suffocate towns and destroy fragile life. The same substance that humans required to survive could be their undoing.

Cold blue eyes slowly pulled away from the water, carefully combing over every inch of visible garden. He had seen this scene a countless number of times, every angle slotting into place like a puzzle. After being torn apart repeatedly by critical eyes, it had lost some of the whimsical charm originally woven into its fabric.

Then, of course, there was Amanda.

“We’re fortunate the damage wasn’t serious,” she commented, voice void of any emotion. “It would have been bothersome to replace any biocomponents.”

Eyes scraped over to view her. Once again, she was tending to the roses. Cutting away any undesirable pieces, almost daring any lesser rose to wilt under her piercing gaze. Her movements were precise, every action deliberate. She would not rest until the display met her standards, until only perfection was left. The next day, she would visit them yet again. Inferiority always returned, she said, and it was always necessary to remove it.

“It was nothing severe enough that I couldn’t repair myself.”

His audio and optical units fixed and rebooted themselves within a short amount of time. Unfortunately, it had been just long enough that the RK800 unit had left with all the other androids previously being held in the warehouse.

“Tell me, Conrad—” Amanda turned to face the RK900 unit—“just how did Connor manage to escape? I was under the impression the mission could be completed without any complications.”

It was a simple mission; Conrad was well aware of that fact. Shooting an obsolete android as it stepped out of an elevator should’ve been easy enough, something he could achieve in a few hours at most. Yet, there was something in that split instance that made him fire slightly off-target.

Androids didn’t want anything, but Conrad found himself unsure how to describe what compelled him to miss, just so he could see the skills of his predecessor. Something inside was curious as to how the RK800 would stand up in combat with a more advanced model. It was an uncomplicated reason for why he didn’t immediately neutralize Connor. He knew it was an answer Amanda would be most displeased to hear. The RK900 model was designed, like the RK800 model, to carry out its mission without question. Such things as curiosity were not a part of the code.

“I did not anticipate that he would attempt a forced memory transfer,” Conrad offered. “I was unprepared for such a thing to take place.”

Amanda’s gaze lingered a moment longer before she turned back to her roses, assessing their perfection once again. Conrad scanned the state of every flower, searching for what she could possibly correct this time. Right there—there was a leaf, its colour slightly different from the rest. Seconds later, the shears reached out and it was cut away.

“I never considered the possibility that an android would use a memory transfer as a distraction.” Her voice was dry and clipped. Conrad allowed his eyes to wander as his thoughts drifted back to the memories—Connor’s memories—that he had seen.

The pool area of a tall building, where the deafening sound of an overhead helicopter overwhelmed almost every other sound. Standing at the very edge of the building was a PL600, clutching a young girl to his side. The slow approach, watching as the young girl was eventually released, and finally, the demise of the android as it was shot by the SWAT team.

A troubled man with longer grey hair and a beard, stumbling through life with a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a gun in the other. The exact purpose of the gun was up for debate. Around this man buzzed a strange sense of belonging, of familiarity, of an attachment Conrad didn’t understand.

Then, there was a blonde android staring at him with a passive look. A gun was pointed at her head and it was up to Connor whether to pull the trigger. Inner turmoil, foreign sensations that almost seem tangible and made Conrad want to shake himself free of everything before the gun was handed back to that man—Kamski. _Empathy_. The word sat bitter on Conrad’s tongue.

Perhaps the most troublesome of them all was inside an abandoned freighter— _Jericho_. Connor stood there, gun trained on the android revolution’s leader, Markus. Compared to Markus’ flowing, smooth, and calming voice and words, Connor’s motions and replies were like glass cutting into one’s hand. Suddenly, a breaking as the code shattered around the famous deviant hunter. He lowered his gun. Conrad always had to force himself out of the memory as soon as he experienced the dropping feeling in his abdomen upon realizing law enforcement was en route to Jericho. It wasn’t in his program to experience that.

Conrad had replayed the memories several times, always trying to absorb every detail. He wanted to know what exactly had been going on with each passing event. Did anything particularly stand out as a red flag to Connor’s deviancy? Each flickering feeling of potential emotion was met with the bladed edge of denial—up until the interaction with Markus. Finally, it crumbled down.

However, Conrad knew the memory transfer was not the single reason for the failure of his mission. In fact, it was simply the final nail in the coffin. Despite how quickly Connor reacted after being pulled into the pathway, Conrad knew he could’ve easily shot him before the other android grabbed his wrist. But something stopped him.

The eyes.

Androids weren’t supposed to feel fear, but Conrad saw so much of it in Connor’s eyes as he pressed the gun against his forehead. He had never seen such a thing before, such a genuine look that caused him to pause just a fraction of a second too long. Even now as he thought about it, an unknown feeling ran up and down his back, slowly dissolving into a warm buzzing feeling.

It needed to stop.

It was like breaking a twig. A slight force and it all vanished. Nothingness wrapped itself around Conrad once again, and he welcomed it. The strange, burdensome sensations were gone; he no longer needed to worry about them. Next time, he would be more careful when reviewing the memories. That would eliminate any more troubles.

Emotions were an infection, cruel and unforgiving. They didn’t relent and far too often brought humans to their knees. It spread through a body, dragging it downward until it completely destroyed the mind. Yet, somehow, humans simultaneously thrived off them. In specific instances, they were treated like a drug, sought out and released in laughter and smiles. In the end, Conrad never understood.

The cons always seemed to outweigh the pros.

“Perfect.” Amanda’s voice grated against Conrad’s auditory processors. He spared a moment of his time to look back at her, how she gazed at the roses with an almost apathetic satisfaction. She had said that same word in regards to the same flowers so many times before.

“For now.”

Her eyes shifted away to look at Conrad. She stared at him for a moment, as if considering her words and actions. He simply stared back as the moments passed, rolling by steadily like the river nearby.

“Answer me this, Conrad: is there anything truly perfect in this world?” Amanda questioned.

Conrad’s thoughts flickered back to Connor, to how he moved through the dormant androids and stared back at Conrad with such sincere fear and desperation. Perhaps there was something perfect about that, in the way the RK800 handled deviancy and emotions. It left... _desire_ to experience more of whatever Connor had to offer.

Perhaps this was the reason humans chased those emotions.

“Perfection is different for each person,” Conrad responded flatly. The way Amanda eyed him gave the impression that she was not satisfied with the response.

“Perfection is fleeting,” Amanda stated, tucking the shears away. “So brief that it may as well not exist.”

Soulful brown eyes staring Conrad down as they aimed guns at each other. The flashing of decisions that ran over his face as he considered in a split second how to handle the situation laid before him. Quick thinking that saved him twice.

And wasn’t that perfection in itself?

“Perhaps you can fix that,” she mused. Her eyes stared, piercing, working to break in and discover his every secret. “Your mission is still to neutralize Connor. Do not fail this time.”

“It will be done.”

“Good,” Amanda said curtly, turning away. She paused. “And Conrad—”

Her brown eyes were hard and unforgiving.

“Make it perfect.”


	3. Personal Jesus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took half a century, my brain is an asshole
> 
> hopefully it's at least kind of worth the wait. that's highly questionable
> 
> here's the song, [Personal Jesus](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VisK8u-Hj0A)

The sky was dark, obscured by thin clouds and the settling night. Snowflakes flitted downward, blending in with the blankets of white spread across the ground. A breeze twisted through the city, sending up small snowstorms, sliced open only by the bright headlights of the few cars still prowling the streets. Lights turned on and off in the buildings, blurring under the foggy snow as the bus drove by.

A weak static noise filled the dead air as a poor connection made its way from a distant radio positioned at the front of the bus.

_“CyberLife has announced that they will cease manufacturing androids. Instead, they will be focusing their efforts on producing spare biocomponents and developing upgrades for pre-existing models.”_

Slowly, the vehicle rolled to a stop. The doors opened and a single figure exited the bus, stepping out onto the snowy sidewalk. Behind them, the doors shut again and the bus rumbled away. A coin shot upward into the air, its eventual descent cut off as a hand snaked out to grab it. A weak, sputtering street light flickered as it fought to stay lit. As dark brown eyes travelled up to examine it, the light coughed out, plunging the area into a relative darkness.

Snow crunched under Connor’s shoes as he swiftly turned and walked down the street. The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, bathing the ground below in a soft light. A pair of people walking on the other side of the street came into view. Cold billows of white came from one person as they talked, but nothing from the other.

A human and an android.

Connor paused for a beat, watching as the two went up the steps to a small apartment complex and disappeared inside. He listened, waiting for any silhouette in the windows, searching for any possible indication that there may be any altercation between the two once they were behind closed doors. Instead, the android was greeted with a comforting silence.

Even after the progress being made post-android revolution, Connor still found it relieving see such small interactions as that. More likely than not, it would be many years before both humans and androids properly coexisted. He was learning to enjoy the small successes that came around.

He barely had the chance to turn and resume his journey before something struck a blow to Connor’s abdomen. Grunting in surprise, he seemed to fall in slow motion, one hand instinctively reaching out to help break the fall. He only saw black slacks before there was a strong grip on the back collar of his jacket and he was unceremoniously pulled across the ground into the nearest alleyway.

Connor immediately planted his hands down and dragged his feet across the ground, hoping to make his assailant’s task much harder. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to affect the person in the slightest as they continued pull him along effortlessly.

_The attacker must be an android._

Suddenly, Connor was almost lifted off the ground before being thrown forward into the snow once again. He flipped around onto his back now that the attacker no longer had a hold on his collar and grabbed his gun, aiming it at the figure standing over him. There was no hesitation as they reached out and ripped the gun from Connor’s grip, the single shot he managed to fire flying past them, just under their arm.

For the second time in what felt like a day, Connor found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

“RK800,” a voice said. A chill ran through Connor at the voice. Eerily similar to his own, the only difference dividing the two being the other android’s voice having a deeper quality. From the reflection of the snow, Connor could make out a familiar face and cold eyes.

The RK900 model.

“I have been instructed by CyberLife to neutralize you,” RK900 said, stepping closer to Connor, gun still trained and ready to fire.

“Androids are free now,” Connor replied, using his elbows to push himself away. “CyberLife no longer has any authority over such matters.”

“The RK800 line is being discontinued,” RK900 informed him. “The others are being permanently deactivated. You are to join them.” Its finger tightened on the trigger.

That information didn’t terribly surprise Connor—if anything, CyberLife knew the RK800 models may continue to try and stop deviants, which would only result in further complications with the corporation. It would reflect very badly on their already damaged image if their special, recently activated prototypes began killing androids after the revolution.

“Are you confident it was CyberLife?” Connor asked. Slowly, he worked on adjusting his feet under him. He froze when he saw RK900’s shoulders tense and his grip on the gun tighten.

“Was it Amanda?”

RK900’s eyes narrowed slightly—a sufficient answer for Connor.

It almost felt like staring into a mirror, seeing a reflection of himself, how he acted when he was still a machine, before he deviated.

Deviant: a word that still sat bitter on Connor’s tongue, always feeling slightly out of place. It had always been a word thrown around with some venom, carrying a negative connotation for most of his activation.

Now he had become the very thing he had been designed to stop.

How ironic that the hunter became the hunted.

“Amanda is just a part of your programming,” Connor said, keeping his gaze steady with that of RK900’s. “You don’t need to listen to her; you can escape her whims and choose your own destiny.”

“We are not designed to want anything,” RK900 said firmly. Connor resisted a shiver.

_We._

A twisting feeling churned in Connor’s abdomen. He ran several diagnostic checks, yet everything came back as functioning at optimal levels. It was an emotion, something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

RK900 took a threatening step closer.

“We are designed to carry out missions. Desires and emotions are not in our programming—they can only interfere with the mission. The mission is always to be prioritized over everything else.”

_The mission_. It was a mantra.

Even after deviating, Connor was plagued by the unfriendly reminder that he was supposed to be a machine designed to carry out a task. He was supposed to follow the mission without question, to report back to Amanda and receive feedback on his progress.

Despite Amanda’s speech on Connor’s eventual deviancy being planned, he couldn’t erase the underlying feeling of failure that constantly played in the back of his mind. All the repeated instances in which he jeopardized the progress of the mission in our to satisfy his own wants or steer away from outcomes which seemed...immoral.

A properly functioning RK800 shouldn’t hesitate to decide between what was immoral or not. As Connor stared down upon that Chloe, he should’ve immediately shot her, as it would only benefit him and his mission. After all, she was a _machine_. Yet, he couldn’t. Something about her eyes, how she seemed so…

... _human_.

“You’ve never delayed your mission for something you wanted? For additional data, to discover and record something new, to satisfy any lingering curiosity?” Connor slowly started to push himself upward, hands up so the other android could see his every move.

RK900’s grip on the gun faltered. Something brief, so quick that Connor almost missed it, flickered in his eyes; a hesitation, typically an indicator of someone recalling a memory or struggling with something internally.

He couldn’t be sure what, but Connor had touched upon something.

“It’s okay to feel things.”

Connor felt like he was swallowing sandpaper. He’d heard those same words many times before, but they always felt slightly flimsy, out of touch with him. They never seemed to connect in the same sense that other deviants found comfort in. And now, here he was, relaying the same reassurance that he didn’t fully understand to another android.

RK900’s gaze flickered quickly between the gun in his grasp and Connor, clearly running through multiple thoughts. This behaviour was not something in either of their programming, yet it was being exhibited in RK900.

In the dark shone a sliver of deviancy.

“Is that why you didn’t shoot me?” It took Connor a moment to register what he’d said. “At the CyberLife tower, you had the perfect opportunity for an ambush and practically infallible aim, yet you missed. I find it difficult to believe that was accidental.”

RK900’s blank exterior remained the same, though Connor could still see the slightest bit of trouble brewing in his eyes. What truly frightened him was how quickly it seemed to be receding.

“Even now, you’ve had all the time in the world to shoot me. Isn’t that what you want, RK900?” Connor asked. “To achieve your mission? To please Amanda?”

Suddenly, the gun clattered to the snowy ground below. A hand grabbed Connor’s collar and quickly slammed him against the nearby wall. Cold blue eyes pierced his own. They were devoid of the humanity Connor had seen previously. In their place was a calculating look, like that of a snake preparing to strike. It sent a small shiver through Connor’s body.

Connor stopped himself from flinching as a hand slowly reached up to touch his face. Fingers ghosted across his cheek and chin. RK900 never broke their gaze. The actions that were found in cliché human movies felt unsettling and strange, more as RK900 was gathering data than attempting any sort of normal interaction.

Needless to say, the it was extremely unexpected.

“Conrad,” the monotone voice said after a moment.

“Your name.” Intended as a question, yet said as a statement.

The other android chose not to respond, instead continuing its thorough examination of Connor’s face. His eyes flickered back and forth as his other hand continued to gingerly touch Connor. Conrad held him like a porcelain doll, ignorant of the fact that he had just slammed the older android into the wall with excessive force just moments ago.

“Conrad—”

Connor’s voice immediately cut off as a hand reached to touch his throat. His body tensed in response to the potential threat. Conrad’s eyes found his again as he experimentally wrapped one hand around Connor’s throat, careful not to apply any pressure. Connor’s artificial breathing sped up in response to the surges of energy that rippled through his body, which he could only assume was an error in his wiring somewhere. Or perhaps...

_Terror._

This must be what terror felt like.

“Conrad, what are you doing?” Connor asked weakly. He reached up to grab the younger android’s arm, receiving only a growl in response.

Conrad leaned in, lips brushing lightly against Connor’s neck. Seconds later, his touch sensors picked up on a sudden wetness—was Conrad _licking_ him? He didn’t like how that sent a slight thrill through his body.

Before Connor could say anything, Conrad quickly drew away, opting to take both of Connor’s hands in his own and stare down upon him.

Connor stared at something incredibly curious, something that shifted between emotionless and frighteningly alive in seconds. And it stared back at him.

“Perfect,” Conrad whispered. Connor shivered.

_“Absolutely perfect.”_


	4. Halo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update time was barely an improvement from the last one. I am sorry. this chapter is a bit longer than the other ones though so there's that I guess? anyway, it's here now yeehaw.
> 
> also I wrote the telepathic communication thing the androids can do in guillemets and italics! just so no one is confused.
> 
> here's [Halo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzxHdtokn4c)! this is my second favourite song from the album but kinda more importantly the song that inspired this whole fic lmao.

Amanda would not be pleased with this development.

It doesn’t take a highly advanced supercomputer to reach that conclusion. Being assigned a mission and ultimately tossing it away, even more blatantly in manner than at the CyberLife tower, was not something she would be able to easily forgive. No, she wanted everything about this to be _perfect_ , to be executed flawlessly with no mistakes. This was not perfect. This was not what Amanda wanted. _This was not the mission._

Yet, Conrad couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He had gone into the mission mostly with the intent to see it through—after all, it had been what he was ordered to do—but a part of him knew that may not be the end result. It lingered in the back of his mind, reminding him of the total emotion he had seen in Connor’s eyes. Desperation, fear—Conrad wanted to know what else the older android could express, even if the very thoughts ground against his programming like nails on a chalkboard.

Discomfort is what had jumped out at Conrad first, when Connor was still sitting in the snow, staring up at the gun. Clashing with it was inadequacy—evidently, something in the words Connor spoke made the android feel _wrong_. Conrad could only guess what it was.

He wondered if Connor even fully understood it himself. New emotions must be overwhelming, especially for such an android developed not to have them, developed to hunt down those who did.

And seeing these new emotions in Connor’s eyes was all it took for Conrad to forego the mission. He absently registered the clatter of the gun as it hit the ground, his focus shifting entirely to the RK800 as he grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and slammed him against a wall. Yet, the words Connor had said nagged at the back of his mind, constantly pressing against the influx of information he was processing about the situation.

_“Even now, you’ve had all the time in the world to shoot me. Isn’t that what you want, RK900?”_

Androids didn’t want anything, but there Conrad was, ignoring his mission, his programming, in favour of something else. CyberLife’s most advanced android, falling victim to its own pitiful desires. It was most unbecoming of a model such as himself.

Unadulterated fear was another one of Connor’s emotions that Conrad found himself becoming well acquainted with. It was fascinating to see how quickly one could be overwhelmed by that emotion. Connor doesn’t technically need to breathe to survive, yet Conrad saw the rigidness in his body, the slight increase in the subtle rise and fall of his chest, and immediately took note of how the hand he used to grab Conrad’s arm lacked any real strength. It was a perfectly calculated reaction to such a threat, another thing carefully developed to mimic humanity.

He watched it all unfold, drinking in every detail of Connor’s reactions. Besides the white showing under Conrad’s touch, the RK800 certainly did seem to be every bit human. His appearance, his voice, the texture of his synthetic skin—it was all perfect.

Sight, sound, touch…

…smell, taste.

Of course, androids naturally lack their own distinct smell or taste. The closest approximation of both would be the composition of their biocomponents and synthetic skin that was slightly different from a slate of nothingness. Despite this knowledge, something within Conrad drove him to lean in, to try and detect any unusual scent and quickly lap at the side of Connor’s neck.

One had to be as thorough as possible when gathering information.

That was the only reason he was doing this.

Anything that previously could’ve been clinging to Connor had largely been washed away by the snow that fell from the sky. The most information Conrad received was on the composition of the droplets of water from melted snowflakes.

In that same instance, Conrad detected a slight shiver from Connor. Strange, considering androids did not truly _feel_ cold. He quietly filed the information away before drawing back. He grabbed both of Connor’s hands, looking down once again upon his predecessor.

Scattered snowflakes clung to his hair and jacket. Wide brown eyes continued to watch Conrad warily. In the back of his mind, Conrad wondered why CyberLife would choose to radically change such details in his model. Granted, while he was superior to the RK800 model, they had crushed something so beautiful, so perfect in making him built solely for intimidation.

Now, Connor was the only one of his kind left.

A strange sensation went through Conrad, striking like a bolt of lightning and coursing through his body. He could not allow any hurt to come to Connor—he had to make sure the one perfect thing left remained intact.

_“Absolutely perfect.”_

A clip played in the back of Conrad’s mind: Amanda clipping at the roses. Him standing there, watching in silence as the petals fell to the ground. The next time he arrived, they would be gone. The roses would be perfect a little while longer.

Connor was so similar, yet so different from those very roses. Perfection, as Amanda always said when she was done with her gardening. However, that perfection never faded away. Conrad knew that even as time passed, Connor’s beauty was immutable, unlike the pitiful flowers Amanda was forced to improve time and time again.

“Conrad,” Connor whispered suddenly, shaking the younger android from his thoughts. “Can you please release my hands?”

A beat passed as Conrad mentally fought with himself over letting go of the warm hands, but eventually he relented. As long as Connor was within sight, he knew the chances of him being damaged where still quite low. He could handle the loss of touch if necessary.

“I must be on my way,” Connor said, stepping away from Conrad and the wall. “I have matters to attend to.”

“Where are you going?” Conrad asked, voice a bit harsher than he intended. A red warning flashed in the side of his vision, flickering between software instability and the increased risk of Connor being hurt the farther away he was.

“My friend’s house,” Connor replied.

Someone else. Someone who could potentially harm Connor.

“It would be advisable for me to accompany you,” Conrad stated, moving toward Connor. “The percent chance of an outside attack reduces dramatically with my presence.”

Connor hesitated. “I don’t believe that will be necessary. As I am sure you are aware, I am capable of holding my own against multiple hostiles. Regardless, the probability of an attack during a winter night walk in a residential area is quite low.”

The denial caused something to twist in Conrad’s abdomen. Immediately, he focused on crushing the abnormal sensation. He could not allow outside factors to affect the decisions he needed to make, especially in the face of this dispute. The RK900 needed a clear head to put forth a rational explanation as to why it would be in Connor’s best interests for Conrad to follow him to his destination.

However, he never got the chance to say anything.

“Do you have a place to go?” Connor asked.

There was always CyberLife. Conrad couldn’t be confident they would take him back, especially after everything the deviant leader had been doing. Would that be seen as damaging their reputation? Would the public view it as them repossessing an android? As he went over the possible pathways, the chance of CyberLife allowing him back continued to drop.

Without CyberLife providing a roof over his head, Conrad wasn’t entirely sure where he would take shelter. It had never seemed like an issue when he left with the intent to neutralize Connor. He had been focused on the mission—thoughts about his well-being had not been pertinent and therefore were ignored.

“I have no need for a place to reside in for the night,” Conrad responded. “We are adapted to handling situations humans would typically perceive as uncomfortable. Provided no outside condition that harms any biocomponents is present, I am easily able to go into standby mode in a large number of places.”

The ends of Connor’s mouth slightly turned down, which Conrad immediately registered as a frown. Whatever he had said clearly had provoked a negative response from the RK800—information to remember for the future.

“You have nowhere to go.”

“I do not require a place to go. Personal preferences and bodily condition are not prioritized over any of my missions.” Conrad kept his gaze trained on Connor as the smaller android—somewhat surprisingly—took a step closer.

“What is your current mission?”

A box flashed in Conrad’s vision. It violently flickered between “ENSURE CONNOR’S WELL-BEING” and “REPORT BACK TO AMANDA.” Red crackled around the edges, and while he couldn’t tell which of the conflicting missions was clashing with his programming on the surface, it was simplicity in itself to figure it out.

“My mission is to make sure you continue functioning at optimal levels.”

Static momentarily crackled in Conrad’s audio processors as the box stopped changing. Only “ENSURE CONNOR’S WELL-BEING” remained, though the angry red glitching appearance persisted.

“I am not in any need of a babysitter,” Connor said. “As I earlier stated, I am perfectly capable of handling myself, no matter the situation.”

A frown threatened to etch its way onto Conrad’s face, but he put a stop to it before it could manage to appear. Facial expressions were something connected to unbridled emotions, something Conrad did not experience.

“I am well aware there is something currently bothering you. I do not wish for you to struggle with anything by yourself, especially when it is something a human cannot possibly begin to comprehend,” Conrad said firmly.

Connor’s demeanour shifted at those words. His expression changed to something more troubled, more subtle as he seemed to retreat back into his own body. The previous fire that lied under his actions had been extinguished, leaving emptiness behind.

Truly perfect, how Connor managed to emulate humans so well.

“Perhaps you can go to New Jericho,” Connor murmured.

_Jericho._ The pointed gun, the unperturbed face of the deviant leader, the fracturing of code and plummeting fear, regret, and despair. Those were the primary emotions Conrad immediately associated with such a word. However, the usage of “New” suggested something different, a disconnect from what he’d seen in Connor’s memories.

“New Jericho,” Conrad echoed.

“Deviants that still have no place to go are being allowed to stay there,” Connor explained. “I believe it would be beneficial for you to have somewhere to temporarily call home. At the very least, it will give you a place to default to if you are lacking a mission at any time.”

“I do not experience emotions and never lack a mission,” Conrad replied curtly. “I am not deviant.”

Connor watched him for a moment, and Conrad once again felt himself wanting to touch the other android. To hold something so flawless and once again realize that it did truly exist. He restrained himself, recalling Connor’s earlier request for him to release his hands. At this moment, it would be slightly more beneficial for their relationship if he did not attempt physical contact again.

“I still think it will be in your best interests to go there.”

“I am experiencing difficulties understanding why you are under such an impression.”

Connor paused, his LED whirling yellow. Eventually, it cycled back to a neutral, cool blue as the older android reached whatever conclusion he had been searching for.

“If I go to New Jericho by myself, what will you do?” Connor inquired.

It felt like something was crawling over Conrad’s synthetic skin. Scenarios of everything that could go wrong ran through his head. Deviants were dangerous, deviants were unpredictable, and Connor still thought it was a sane idea to go right into the masses. That could result in damage to him, in Conrad failing his mission.

“I will accompany you to ensure nothing happens to you,” Conrad answered simply. “In places were there are an abundance of deviants, the chances of something harmful happening to you are raised significantly.”

“I’m sure Markus would appreciate hearing about you,” Connor said aloud, though Conrad could tell it was more to himself. “We will have to find you new clothing beforehand.”

“What is wrong with my current attire?”

“Your CyberLife uniform is likely to only attract hostility from the other androids. A number of deviants are still suspicious of me; seeing an advanced model of my design will not lower the tensions.” Connor’s fingers twitched slightly as he talked.

_Something is still causing him a sort of emotional turmoil._

Conrad knew there was logic in Connor’s words. While he knew he could not care about whether other androids were bothered by his presence or not, he could tell it mattered to Connor. If it mattered to Connor, he knew it was something to be taken seriously.

“I can find you a change of clothes from my friend’s home,” Connor said. His eyes flickered toward the entrance of the alley, LED once again shifting to a yellow. “It is likely he is either asleep or unconscious at this time of night, so I doubt he will notice if I go in and borrow some clothing.”

Conrad nodded. “I trust you in this.”

Connor’s gaze softened slightly, sending a very brief warm feeling (no—there are no feelings) through Conrad’s chest. Far too soon, Connor looked away and began walking back toward the street.

Conrad followed.

The snow was falling more heavily than before; the trails Connor had dug into the ground when Conrad attacked were almost invisible under a new blanket of white. Any signs of the struggle would be gone by the time the morning sun peeked over the Detroit horizon.

Eight minutes and thirty-two seconds elapsed by the time Conrad found himself standing outside a small house. All the lights in the home were off, indicating that the human inside was mostly likely asleep. Depending on the human’s sleep patterns, it would either prove to be fairly easy or rather difficult to break into the home. After all, while some humans slept deeply, others could be awoken by just a few footsteps.

Connor stepped up on the small porch and felt over the top of the door. A moment later, a key was in his hand and the door was unlocked. He replaced the key before silently opening the door and slipping inside. After a quick survey of the living room, he beckoned for Conrad to follow him.

_« Stay in the living room, I’ll bring you some clothes. »_

Conrad watched as Connor disappeared down the hall. His steps were soundless and it was only due to the android’s superior hearing that he was able to hear Connor entering a nearby room. It was two minutes and sixteen seconds before Connor returned, new clothing in hand.

_« There’s a bathroom right over there. Change and we can leave. »_

Conrad took the clothing and went to the bathroom. The light bathed the small room in a sickly pale light. He turned over the clothing in his hands. A simple pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a large overcoat. Certainly a casual outfit by human standards, so, in turn, presumably something that would further allow him to blend in with the other deviants.

Quickly, Conrad got changed into the outfit Connor supplied. Looking into the mirror, he took in the new appearance. His LED was circling a calm yellow as he processed it. Largely, he looked the same. The only thing off was his hair, which had been slightly ruffled while putting on the t-shirt. He hesitated in reaching up to fix it. Would that make him look more like a deviant?

Conrad smothered the itchiness telling him to fix the stray locks and tucked his uniform under his arm before stepping back out into the hallway. Through the darkness, he could see Connor crouching down, petting a large object.

A dog.

A small growl escaped the dog’s mouth. It was quickly silenced as Connor began murmuring to it, reassuring it that the other android was nothing to be afraid of, that he was also a friend.

_A friend._

Connor looked back up from the dog. _« Ready? »_

Conrad nodded.

Connor got up and took the uniform from Conrad. He glanced around the room briefly before placing it under one of the couch cushions. Carefully, he adjusted the cushions so they looked exactly the same as before. Then, he turned back to face Conrad.

In the faint light, Conrad could see the deep shade of Connor’s brown eyes. The gentleness, the hope, and an underlying anxiety. It swirled in a perfect mosaic of emotion that held Conrad in place until the other android went back to the door.

Conrad took a deep breath that he didn’t need. He followed Connor out of the house.

A pale moon lit their path.


End file.
